


Three Little Birds

by thewriterpoe



Category: EXO (Band), SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M, References to Drugs, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:24:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterpoe/pseuds/thewriterpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Don't worry/about a thing/ cause every little thing/is gonna be alright.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Little Birds

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Jongin complains even though he knows the answer. Taemin scowls, sighing in his exaggerated way; he kicks at the stones at his feet but says nothing. Jongin didn’t expect that Taemin would. He heaves the duffle bag filled with expired canned food over his shoulder and trudges on - they still have three hours to sunset. Taemin follows at a three feet distance, balancing precariously on the uneven low wall. They will have to start thinking about moving on from this town. There isn’t any more food left.

 

Jongin has been staring at the three story townhouse he’s picked for them to spend the night for over fifteen minutes. Taemin is getting irritated but Jongin can’t be too careful. He doesn’t want a repeat of last week. As terrible as the walkers are, they learned the hard way that it’s the humans they should be wary of.

“Watch the food,” Jongin finally says standing from where he has them crouching behind an over grown bush. He ignores Taemin’s eye roll. “And don’t go anywhere,” he adds trying not to sound as desperate as he feels.

Taemin looks away but his expression is softer. It seems he doesn’t want a repeat of last week either.

Two months ago, Jongin had found Taemin on the low hanging end of the Yanghwa Bridge, where the current was strongest – he was balancing precariously on the railing. He insisted he wasn’t trying to kill himself but Jongin didn’t believe him. He didn’t blame him either. It was just that Taemin was the first human being Jongin had seen in over 3 months. And maybe it was selfish but Jongin didn’t want to be alone again.

 

 

They confine themselves to the second floor - they’d have the higher ground advantage and if they needed, the fall wouldn’t be disastrous. Jongin leaves Taemin rummaging through the duffle bag for something to eat while he douses the perimeter of the house with ammonia – that would mask their scent presence from the walkers. The townhouse is secure enough; outfitted with double bolts and metal bars across the reinforced front and back doors. The window shutters are thick blocks of wood that slide down only a fraction to allow some light. No one is coming in easily and that bothers Jongin a little because it also means that no one is getting out easily either; but it will do for the night. He doesn’t want them staying too long not matter how secure. There’s the stench of death clinging to the basement of the house. He has a sneaking suspicion that the smell belongs to Baby Phineas referenced in the note taped to the shattered frame with a missing picture. He used to wonder what happened to the families that lived in the houses they raided, but not anymore.

Jongin goes back to the second floor, locking the steel bar at the staircase landing, and Taemin isn’t there. He’s not in the adjacent room either. _That fucking brat_ , he cusses, but it doesn’t escape him how his heart races to his throat, trying to force its way out through the small opening of his throat.

“Taemin!” Jongin calls but with the obstruction in his throat, he doesn’t make a sound. Flashes of hands with knives flicker behind his eyes; then a smiling Taemin interrupts the view. Jongin’s breath catches. A smiling Taemin, and he’s saying something Jongin can’t hear.

  _He’s ok_ , Jongin tells himself. He’s ok.

“Are you listening to me?” Taemin’s voice sounds muffled as Jongin’s hearing adjusts from the adrenaline dump. “They have rum!” A bottle of Barcardi invades Jongin's vision.

Jongin takes in the scene. They’re in the kitchen; two empty plates set on the counter, an opened can of corn, and Vienna sausages sizzling on the fire.

“Is that music?” Jongin chokes, turning to the sound. It’s been almost two years since he’s heard music. His chest tightens and he looks at Taemin like he’s about to cry.

Taemin’s smile widens. “I know, right?” 

Jongin looks away; at the small CD collection next to the boombox. He’s never seen Taemin smile before and doesn’t know how to take it. It looks odd on him. He takes a swig of the bottle Taemin hands him, grimacing at the taste. It’s really strong and he isn’t much of a drinker in the first place. He turns back to Taemin who has his eyes closed as he sways to the rhythms of Bob Marley and the Wailers. Something in his belly roils. He wants to blame the alcohol but It’s not the first time. Bobbing his head to the beat, Taemin looks…pretty.

“It’s been so long,” Taemin comments, opening his eyes slightly. “Dancing, I mean,” he explains.

Jongin takes another swig, shuddering at the heat blazing a trail to his pelvis. Strangely, it feels good. So he takes another and another.

“Slow down,” Taemin teases him turning over the sausages with a butcher knife.

Jongin hops onto the counter, the bottle of rum between his teeth. He watches as Taemin slowly finds his groove, singing about how ‘every little thing is going to be alright’. Jongin covers a snicker with a cough when Taemin’s voice cracks in the middle of the refrain. But Taemin isn’t paying attention to him. His eyes are closed again and there’s a lazy smile on his face. Jongin still can’t get used to the smile but then he thinks that this is what Taemin must have looked like before the end of the world.  He barely knows anything about Taemin but somehow reggae fits. Jongin imagines it: Taemin as a college student, slow fucking in a basement apartment filled with potent smoke. He hates that his mind goes there and blames it on the rum. But the image remains on a loop, intensifying in graphic detail with each sip he takes.

Two hands sliding up his thighs wake Jongin from his reverie.

“What - ” Jongin begins to protest.

“Just go with it,” Taemin chides, already feeling the outline of Jongin’s dick.

Jongin’s still a bit shocked when soft lips press against his.

“Jongin, kiss me back,” Taemin demands. He now has his hands in Jongin’s hair but he waits, watching Jongin go through every reason why they shouldn’t be doing this. Taemin knows them all: they don’t know each other, they could become too attached, they could be ambushed, they don’t have protection.

Jongin kisses him back. It’s clumsy, it’s uncoordinated but it’s everything they need right now.

They hurry to get their hands inside each other’s pants. Taemin’s faster because Jongin’s legs are already spread apart. Jongin’s colors brightly when Taemin pulls out his cock. It flags a little with the change in temperature but soon enough it’s in Taemin’s mouth and as he moans, throwing his head back, Jongin hits his head on the overhead cabinet.

“Ouch!” he hisses, rubbing the back of his skull.

Taemin only looks up long enough to see that Jongin isn’t badly hurt but he does move slower which is almost worse.

The last time Jongin did this was two years ago. He thinks he remembers the face of the boy he was with - before the corruption of Neilheart’s Miracle Cancer Cure. He closes his eyes and sees round eyes, fat cheeks and lips the shape of cupid’s bow. He remember’s the name… “Kyungsoo,” he moans.

A shiver runs down his spine and the wet warmth around his cock is gone.

 _Shit!_ He grimaces, and wracks his foggy brain to salvage this situation even though he knows Taemin was thinking about someone else. Probably that Jjong he keeps muttering in his sleep. He doesn’t realize that the alarm on his solar watch is going off; that’s it’s why Taemin stopped. When the obnoxious beeping finally registers, the sobering reality crashes down on him. For just a moment, he’d forgotten that the world outside was hostile, that it had taken away everyone he’d known and loved. For a moment, he and Taemin were just two guys hanging out, listening to ‘Three Little Birds’. For a moment, life was normal.

The insistent beeping gets louder before Jongin clicks the alarm off.  He looks down at Taemin and is greeted with a scowl that’s as familiar as the sound of their grumbling stomachs. _This_ , Jongin reminds himself, _is normal._

It’s six thirty four, the beginning of sun set and a very long night. Sleep is hard to come by; if it’s not the blood curdling cries outside the doors, it’s the blood curdling cries inside their heads. They move with precision, packing whatever supplies they can find– a bottle of ethanol, ladies underwear – they can’t be too picky - and kitchen knives. Jongin says to leave the rum but Taemin secretly packs it. By the time they hear the first cries of the night, they’re hurdled up in the bathtub, weapons at the ready.

Forty long minutes pass and the howls and screeches give way to silence. It will be this way till just before sunrise.

 


End file.
